Last Call

Beautiful girls staggering back home
While dawn slithers over cobblestones
Twirling on twine rows of salted swine
Hovering above rubber gloves, puddles of reflected light
Skyscrapers tear an aerial scar
Where the clouds are born from cars
Constellations of movies stars
Now heaven isn't very far

In the window mannequins begin to itch and wish
That they could know the temperature of snow
In the gutter flutter pigeons and pages of porn
Where there once roamed unicorns
Down the yellow brick road
All the homeless scarecrows
Pimps and witches know
Red shoes won't get you home

Newspapers screaming like seagulls
At the coffee shop cannibals
Red lips howling at a mirror ball
It's the eclipse of the last call